


For Once

by Leigh Jackwood (Leigh_Jackwood)



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Anderbad, Angst, Barefoot romps through Paris parks, Beards, Brothers, F/M, Family, Friendship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, that look in the tunnel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leigh_Jackwood/pseuds/Leigh%20Jackwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Anderbad something was sparked between Penelope and Virgil, or it would have had Scott not been in their way until he can allow himself, just for once, to be someone other than the oldest Tracy brother and Field Commander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Once

**For Once**

**Chapter One**

She would say it started in the tunnel. That it was the soft hand on her cheek keeping her calm as the bullet train screamed over their heads. Penelope could trace her problem back to that single moment in Anderbad, nice and neat as if it was a painting she could find the Provenance for without too much trouble. Of course saving people was what they did and she didn't delude herself into thinking that she was special, but Virgil could have just shot the ladder down and left it at that. Maybe because he knew her he had felt compelled to hold onto her and make sure she was safe.

Whatever his reasons, Anderbad was where it started. After that she began to notice a thousand tiny things she had passed over before. How Virgil was the first to stand if there weren't enough seats, giving his to any brother or other standee without a moment's notice. How he would always ask her how she was, even if he was pressed for time. They were all kind, they were all polite gentleman, Jeff has taught them well, yet each time she saw them Virgil stood out as the one who went out of his way to care. He had offered to walk her around the Louvre, making sure she wasn't still in shock once they got back from Anderbad. It was an impressive building and a beautiful collection but only when walking with him did she realise that even her knowledge of fine arts and culture left her completely unaware of the real treasures around her.

"If you look closely, you'll see the people he painted out," Virgil was saying quietly, leaning as close to the glass as he dared. "The strokes-" He stopped and flushed a warm red, which she immediately found adorable. "Sorry, stop me if I'm rambling."

"Not at all, it is quite fascinating." She graced him with a smile and waited to see if that would make him blush harder. Instead it simply began a tirade of information about oil paintings, delivered at such a pace that she could follow easily and as Virgil moved them gently on to the next one she could pick out what he meant. Penelope decided that he was simply enthusiastic and grateful for an audience that wasn't one of his brothers simply putting up with him, for someone to actually be listening.

Her feet ached in her heels after they finished the wing and although she did her best to wince discreetly he saw.

"Coffee? Or, or tea?" She smiled at his hasty correction.

"That would be wonderful." The tea room was mercifully near to the exhibition they had been wandering around and she couldn't help but be relieved when the weight was finally off her feet. She had chosen a more uncomfortable pair of heels to go with one of her nicer dresses, they looked fabulous but she avoided wearing them for too long. It was because she was in Paris and she ought to look her best, rather than the man sitting opposite her that she had put them on, she repeated.

"I wonder how long it'd take to see every piece in here," Virgil murmured, more to himself, she suspected than to her.

"At the speed you pass them? Well into the next millennia." He shot her a grin she was sure Gordon got a lot, coupled with a reflex eye roll at the tease. In the relatively formal museum cafe he was relaxed, in his element, his natural habitat and the International Rescue pilot was nowhere to be seen. Penelope had never had much opportunity to see any of the boys on their own without the family business overshadowing things or others around. Except for Scott, whom she had known so well for so long, catching another brother off guard was almost a surprise. They had learnt it from Jeff of course, to always be ready and on duty even at home.

"I'm sorry. I was trying to go at what Gordon calls snail pace, which is apparently twice as fast as Virgil pace." She laughed, patting his hand ever so briefly to reassure him.

"It's a perfect speed." He would spend hours in front of one single painting, she knew and seeing his delight in them almost made her want to let him but her attention span for landscapes was significantly less and they reached a happy medium.

"Would you like to do another wing of have you had, your fill of art for the day?" It was endearingly sweet how he tried to sound more complicated, his language not quite matching hers. It wasn't for lack of vocabulary or intelligence simply that unless it was technical jargon Virgil spoke simply and she held back a smile at his attempts.

"You don't go home until tomorrow. We can come back and do another gallery before your flight. Then I will have the mental capacity for your oil appreciation class." He smiled shyly and held out an arm to her. If it had been any warmer she had no doubt he would have offered to carry her coat.

Her feet had not quite rested enough by the time they reached the outside world and were strolling through the Jardins des Tuileries.

"Why wear something uncomfortable?" Virgil asked her suddenly, stopping by a bench. "There's no one to see." She wanted to say that there was, he was there and he wasn't 'no one'.

"Fashion, darling."

"There's grass, you could just take them off and be comfortable." She laughed at the notion until she realised he was seriously suggesting she took her heels off. Knowing she would ruin her tights she did so, only to have her shoes snatched lightly out of her hand at once.

"Virgil! Give them back!" There was a grin to rival Gordon's there and he took a step away. Penelope laughed again, her and her classmates had done the same to each other a thousand times. The chase for shoes. Virgil could outrun her easily, staying just beyond reach as they sprinted through the park. He dodged behind a tree, doubling back so that they ran around it laughing. She must have been still in shock from the tunnel, the idea of running through a Parisian park in just her tights chasing after her shoes was so preposterous it was unfathomable almost.

Then Virgil let her catch him and she grabbed the heels, hugging the arm that had been holding them. For the briefest of moments Virgil held her waist before they drew apart, breathless and laughing.

"There, that was better than in shoes."

"That was immature and so incredibly improper," she answered. "And ever so much fun." Heels in one hand, the other holding Virgil's arm, they sauntered on through the gardens. It was strange to no longer be at eye height to him, without her heels she had lost a good five inches and found that she had to look up at him.

All too soon they were back at where Virgil had left the car, a silver convertible from Tracy Enterprises parked along a backstreet behind Champs Elysee. Penelope didn't want to go back to her hotel and then home the next day. She wouldn't admit that she didn't want to have to hand Virgil back to Gordon and Alan and lose her art companion. He was still going on about oils as he drove her back through the early evening Parisian traffic and she listened as carefully as possible to commit the last few minutes to memory.

"Hey, Virg!" Gordon had a bag slung over his shoulder and wet hair that spoke of a visit to the hotel pool. "Good evening, Penelope."

"Hello, Gordon." He gave them a vague wave and started up the stairs. Virgil called the lift for her, the two of them standing inside.

"Thank you," she said as the doors opened for her floor. She smiled, meaning it both for Anderbad and the afternoon at the Louvre.

"My pleasure." His smile was genuine and bright but he turned away and left her at her door. "I'll see you at dinner." She stayed at the door a moment too long before berating herself on the brief moment of sentimentality. She had an hour to get ready and find an equally striking but more comfortable set of shoes.


End file.
